


Ale to the King

by curlydots



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Excessive Drinking, Gen, all the Servants being awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlydots/pseuds/curlydots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well then," said Saber, as she raised her glass to her lips. "May the best king win."</p><p>(Or, the one where Saber makes questionable life choices, Diarmuid refuses to live up to Irish stereotypes, and there is way too much alcohol going around, even for Servants.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ale to the King

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Эля королю!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853130) by [WTFFate2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTFFate2017/pseuds/WTFFate2017)



> This all takes place the night after the bridge battle with Caster, but I guess it also takes place in some weird AU where all the Masters and Servants are like 20% more chill.
> 
> Also, who's got two thumbs and has no idea what 90's bars in Japan were like? Did you guess me? Cuz it's me.

“Is your Master alright with you being here?” Saber asked, wrapping her scarf around her face.

“Yes, of course,” said Diarmuid. “I’ve told my Master that I intend to further my bonds with a potential ally, and they had no objections.”

“Is that what they call getting drunk in this day and age?”

Diarmiud gave her an short, ungentlemanly shrug but said nothing else. This had all been his idea, and after the sacrifice that he’d made to help her defeat Caster, Saber felt as though this small gesture of friendship could be allowed. There was little thought in her mind that this might be a trap set by him and his master - after all if he intended to fight her Diarmuid had to do nothing but tell her and she would be more than happy to oblige him - so Saber felt confident that, true to his word, Diarmuid truly wanted to grab a few drinks with her.

“It’s been sometime since I’ve a celebrated a battle like this,” Saber said. 

“I’d thought so," said Diarmuid. "Though this probably won’t be as satisfying as whatever kingly feasts _you're_ used to."

Saber gave a small nervous laugh. "Y-yes. Kingly feasts. Those were quite common in my time. Naturally I attended many of them."

"Naturally." Diarmuid nodded. "And I'd say we’ve both earned ourselves a few rounds. Ah, here we are!” Diarmuid stopped in front of a small brick building, tucked between a couple of restaurants. Downtown Fuyuki was surprisingly active for a winter night, and there was a decent amount of traffic in the surrounding area (a fact that removed any lingering suspicion that might have been in Saber’s mind of an ambush). Saber watched as Diarmuid reached for the door.

“After - “ started Diarmuid

Saber tried to shove him out of the way. “Don’t you dare - “

“ - you, milady,” Diarmuid pulled the door wide and gave her a small bow.

Saber tried to give him a solid glare but the obvious mirth in Diarmuid’s eyes made it difficult. She settled for rolling her eyes, and promising that she’d get the door for him on the way out.

The inside of the bar was relatively nice; warm and a little crowded but far cleaner than Saber had ever expected of taverns in her own time. It was odd being surrounded by so many unfamiliar young faces, and Saber was beginning to wonder if maybe she should have asked Irisviel to come along.

"How does one usually attract a barwoman's attention in this time?" Asked Saber. There looked to be a small crowd of people over by the bar, along with several people that Saber assumed were servers floating between tables with trays full of drinks.

"I'm afraid I'm not actually sure. Perhaps I should pull out my spear and wave it around."

"Certainly not in front of so large a crowd, Lancer. But if it will lower the price of our drinks then I am not opposed to it."

"Why Arturia," said Diarmuid with a straight face. "I am a _gentleman_."

Saber pulled off her scarf with a chuckle. "Let's try to find some seats, I think our orders will be taken after we've - " Saber froze. Near the back of the bar sat two horribly familiar figures at a small table. A table Diarmuid was currently walking toward.

“Lancer! Lancer, wait!” She grabbed Diarmuid's arm and pulled him in the opposite direction. “I think we should consider another bar. Preferably right now. There are so many new places in this time to consider, why limit our options?”

Diarmuid looked down at her in surprise. “I’d thought this was a relatively comfortable bar...but if you insist.” Saber relaxed a little as the Lancer started to pull back on his coat.

“Well, well, well,” said an irritating familiar voice, “this is a surprise.”

Saber gritted her teeth. _This was almost a good night_ , she thought. "It certainly is."

"Archer," said Diarmuid, looking back and forth between Gilgamesh and Saber in surprise. "Ah..."

Gilgamesh smiled at their obvious discomfort. He looked strange without his pounds of sparkling armor and whatever wretched magic held his blond hair in place. He was holding a nearly empty wine glass in one hand and an empty bottle in the other.

“Would you care to come join us?” He nodded over to his table where Iskander was seated, taking a massive swig from a comically small pink drink. He waved a hand in their direction but didn’t put his glass down.

“I’m afraid this bar doesn't suit my taste,” Saber said, folding her arms over her chest.

“Unfortunate,” said Gilgamesh. “It certainly seems to suit mine.”

Diarmuid cleared his throat loudly. “As the lady was saying, we were actually just leaving." Saber felt a small rush of gratitude for the other knight.

“Nonsense!” Saber jumped as Iskander appeared behind the two of them, pulling them both into a tight hug. “The night is still young!”

Diarmuid shot her an apologetic look as Iskander pushed the both of them towards their table. Gilgamesh followed behind them, waving his glass over his head.

“Barwrench! More drinks!”

 

 

 

*

Iskander shoved glasses into both of their hands. “So what brings the two of you out tonight. Celebrating the battle as well?”

“We had planned to.” Saber said flatly.

“Excellent! Archer and I were here to the do the same. How funny, running into the two of you here. Well? Go ahead! No need to hold back on our accounts, right Archer?”

“Oh definitely not,” said Gilgamesh. Saber narrowed her eyes. No matter how innocuous his words were Saber still got the impression that there filthy implications behind them all the same.

"I have no plans to drink with either of you tonight," said Saber.

"Now Saber, what's a few drinks between enemies?" said Iskander. "Tonight at least, Archer and I have declared a ceasefire. It's not as though we can exactly start a fight in the middle of this crowded bar, is it? And how often is it that a man - or woman - gets to drink with heroes from across the ages? Baring that last time of course." Iskander chuckled. "Archer will even be on his best behavior! Won't you Archer?"

Gilgamesh smirked. "But of course."

Saber grimaced and rubbed her forehead. This had rapidly become the exact opposite of the relaxing night out she had been hoping for. Despite her best instincts telling her otherwise, Saber found that a part of her still _did_ want to celebrate the last evening's victory. There had been a minimal loss of civilian life, and she had finally taken out Caster, ensuring no more children died at the retched couples hand. Regardless of the company, Saber's mood was still quite celebratory. Even if it was only as thanks for Lancer's sacrifice perhaps she could stand to stay for a short while.

Saber looked over at him but he offered nothing more than a small, noncommittal shrug.

“It’ll be just like our last drink - hopefully minus the assassination attempt,” Iskander nudged her in the side. “How about it?”

“I believe _Kings only_ was the rule for our last drink,” said Gilgamesh, eyeing Diarmuid.

“I am here at Lancer’s request,” said Saber sharply. “If he isn’t invited then neither am I.”

“Honestly, choosing the company of a dog over - “

“I’m right here,” said Diarmiud.

“ - over the company of kings," said Gilgamesh, raising his voice. "One really must question your taste.”

Iskander patted Gilgamesh roughly on the shoulder. “No need to be such a poor sport. Lancer came all the way out here tonight and he fought admirably. I say we let the man drink with us.”

“Exactly,” Saber pushed Diarmiud glass into his hands. “He drinks with us.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” After she was sure Diarmuid was drinking, Saber tossed back her own drink - something needlessly fruity and mixed with some harder liquor. If she'd truly resigned herself to a night in Rider and Archer’s company then it might help to have something to take the edge off. Iskander grinned as she dropped her glass down with a heavy clunk.

“Easy there Saber, this isn’t a competition,” said Diarmuid.

“It could be,” said Iskander. When the other three Servants turned to him, he grinned wider. “Archer has told me enough about the alcohol in his possession for me to know he’s a connoisseur and I had already planned on getting as drunk as possible tonight. How about it? Last man, or woman, who hasn't been sick or passed out by the end of the night wins?”

 _No, that’s definitely not a good idea_ , Saber thought, even as she was pouring wine into one of her glasses. The last time they’d all drunk together they hadn’t ended things on the best of terms, and against her wishes, Saber still felt a tinge of bitterness at the memory. Iskander had more than embarrassed her, he’d tried to shatter the foundation that Saber had set herself upon. It was obviously stupid and petty to try and settle this by drinking.

 _It won’t accomplish anything,_ Saber thought. She looked down at her drink and then back at Rider. Big, arrogant, Rider, with his grinning face and his weirdly acute understanding of all of her flaws. Saber's grip on her glass tightened. She wanted to defeat him in battle, not out drink him in a bar. _This will not accomplish anything,_ Saber told herself again.

“I accept,” said Saber.

“Saber?” said Diarmiud.

“Lancer accepts as well.”

“I do? Ah - yes, I do.”

“Good,” said Iskander, just as Gilgamesh said, “Absolutely not.”

“If it offends the King of Heroes' delicate sensibilities then I can drink for Saber’s team.” Diarmuid said. Saber turned to him, frowning and Diarmuid smiled. “It’s just drinks, Arturia. I am not swearing fealty to you.”

Saber nodded. “How many drinks have the two of you had? If we’re going to make this fair then Diarmuid and I are going to have to catch up."

"Archer has had two glasses of wine and I've drunk three of these odd little pink drinks."

"Very well. Young woman," Saber said, to a woman in an apron nearby, "four glasses of wine and six of these pink drinks. Oh, and two glasses of wine for the large gentleman and three pinks for the blond." Saber pulled off her coat and rolled up her sleeves. This was battle, stupid and unnecessary as it was, and she would not take it lightly. At the very least she had Diarmuid at her side. She doubted he would allow any harm to come for her, if purely for the sake of his chivalrous code.

“I apologize for dragging you into this," Saber said to him, once the waitress had returned with their drinks. "It was not my place to volunteer you."

"Not at all, my friend. It'd be a honor to fight alongside you again." Diarmuid plucked a little yellow umbrella out of his drink.

"Well then," said Saber, as she raised her glass to her lips. "May the best king win."

 

 

 

*

Diarmuid slumped forward in his chair, eyes unfocused. Saber watched him reach slowly for his glass, miss, and then knock over the plate of peanuts that sat in the middle of the table. “Damn.” He said quietly. He slid out of his chair and fell around Saber’s feet, moaning softly.

Gilgamesh laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe it! I’ve seen little girls handle more liquor than that! You’ve picked a poor sidekick!”

Saber sighed and picked up her coat. She folded it carefully before placing it under Diarmuid’s head. The sentiment had certainly been nice but Gilgamesh was right; he was a pathetic drinker. By her rough estimate, the man had only had about half a dozen drinks, most of which were fruit filled and "womanish" as Gilgamesh had put it. Saber had easily drunken at least twice as much as him, and didn't at all feel on the verge of collapsing. At this point the alcohol had done little more than make her feel slightly less sympathy than she should have for her friend's plight.

It hadn't been rare for her knights to go off drinking after a battle, but Saber had usually held herself back from those type of gatherings, despite what she may have mislead Diarmuid into believing. She’d told herself her separation from festivities was because she had wanted to keep her men from thinking she was too light-hearted and frivolous of a king (which wasn’t untrue) but all the same she’d never felt particularly welcome among her soldier's more casual moments. She knew her presence had a tendency to kill the mood, so she kept away. Something which she regretted even more now that her tolerance for alcohol was being tested. The drinks taken in poor company had soured her already poor mood considerably, and the atmosphere of laughing young adults was growing more and more irritating as she continued to drink.

The drinks had had the opposite effect on Iskander, who had begun flirting loudly with their waitress with a rosy tinge to his cheeks. He had drunk far more than her; how much exactly she wasn't sure considering his blinding speed, but he'd stopped for now to enjoy himself and allow Saber and Gilgamesh to catch up. The young woman was occasionally giggling and Saber narrowed her eyes as the woman squeezed Iskander's muscular arm. None of this was nearly as annoying as Gilgamesh's reaction to his drinking, as none of the considerable number of drinks he'd taken seemed to be affecting him at all. 

 _It’s just a drinking contest,_ Saber reminded herself. As though he'd heard the nervous edge to her thoughts, Gilgamesh smirked. _Yes, just a contest...that'll end with you broken and weeping at my feet._

"Another bottle please!" Saber shouted over to the bar. Iskander cheered.

“We are on wine now, correct?” Saber asked.

“If you can call this wine,” Gilgamesh said. “I believe this pathetic excuse for a bar has champagne as well but I wouldn’t trust most of the other swill they try to pilfer onto us.”

Saber nodded. The bar looked to be aimed more towards the younger, college aged crowds so she was sure that the supply of quality liquor was likely small.

“We could save ourselves a lot of trouble by simply drinking from my personal reserves. ”

“Ha! And give you the advantage? I think not.” Iskander said, finally returning his attention to the other Servants.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” the waitress said, clearing her throat, but you’ve drunk several bottles of very high end wine. You wouldn’t by any chance...”

Gilgamesh reached into his coat and threw several handfuls of jewels at the waitress.

“Oh!" She said, inspecting a fist-sized emerald. "I’ll get you guys more drinks then!”

"Archer," Saber said slowly, "get your feet off of Lancer's head."

" _Tsk_ ," Gilgamesh moved his feet under the table and Diarmuid made a small groaning noise. "My shoes are worth more than his entire existence..."

 

 

*

Iskander leaned back heavily in his chair, eyes focused up vaguely on the ceiling. “Saber, you don’t hate me do you?”

“What?” Saber lifted her head off of her hands. Several empty bottles rattled as her weight shifted and something shattered as it fell to the floor. The room spun for a few seconds before she could see Iskander again. “What was that?”

“For our entire, 'this is what a king should be' discussion. I was wondering if you resented me.”

“ _Ugh_ \- why does it matter? We’re enemies.” When had the room gotten so warm? The bar was much too warm. Saber loosened her tie and pressed her glass against her cheek. That was better.

“Nonononono,” said Iskander. “There should be at least be respect between enemies."

"I could certainly say I respect you," said Saber. "As for any other feelings I have towards you...I couldn't say. I will likely have to qualms with driving my sword through your gut when the time comes."

Iskander laughed. "Yes, and I'd say you are definitely admirable to some degree."

"Hmf." Saber clenched her wine glass in her hand. _How roundabout._  

"I mean, there are not many woman who could lead an army and be a king at the same time. You're clearly quite exceptional Saber!"

"As I've been saying," said Gilgamesh.

"Hm."

"Even if they all hated you in the end and your country ended up in ruins - "

"Hmmm."

"You know, Waver and I actually watched a charming little movie about your life the other day! Are you familiar with the concept of animation? because it certain makes for fascinating story telling. I believe the character of King Arthur was turned into a fish at some point - "

Saber's glass shattered in her hand.

“I think we've upset her," said Iskander.

"Obviously," said Gilgamesh. "A couple of drinks Rider, and you lose what little tack you have. Clearly Saber -"

“Do not speak as though you know me, Archer," Saber said in a low voice. "So help me, I shall sheath my sword up your pretty blond - “

"I think perhaps," said Iskander, "someone is a bit of a mean drunk."

Saber gritted her teeth as she shook glass from her hand. Stupid, arrogant, 'let's all get along' Iskander, making her get herself so worked up. She was glad she hadn't taken Irisviel along, this night was clearly going to be an ugly one. “I believe I was wrong before, Rider, I do have an opinion of you." 

Gilgamesh put down his drink and leaned forward. 

"Is that so?" asked Iskander warily.

"I think..." she began slowly. "I think you are an incredibly delusional man if you truly believe that you could conqueror the world in this day and age. I think the Japanese military on its own could tear down your army with guns and bombs; something which a man like yourself would be unable to counter. I think that, if you got your wish and earned a second life, you’d be dead before you had conqueror so much as a single country!”

“Naturally, Saber, my men will adjust to the times and I will shift my tactics accordingly - “

"And what? Take on the entire world with an army of ghosts?! Will the Grail grant bodies to all of _them_ as well?"

Gilgamesh snicked. "She certainly has a point."

Iskander's mouth fell open. "I...well..."

“And you, King of Heroes!” Saber stuck a finger under Gilgamesh’s nose and the man jumped, his face falling. “My Master and I have researched you and you probably didn’t even exist outside of a bunch of stories carved out on a few old rocks! You probably are not real. And you are also irritating and pompous, and I swear to God if that is your foot rubbing up against mine under the table _then I shall cut it off and have it mounted over my Master's fireplace,_  Lawful Good status be damn!”

Gilgamesh tucked his feet obediently under his chair, looking annoying cooed. 

When Saber's heavy breathing finally slowed she leaned back dizzily in her chair.

“Are you done?” asked Iskander tentatively.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then...uh,” Isaknder scratched his chin. “More drinks?”

"I believe that would be for the best."

 

 

*

“Where is that ringing coming from?” Iskander looked around, patting his clothes.

"Make it stop, it's more irritating that _that one's_ voice," Saber glared over her drink at Gilgamesh.

Iskander reached into his pants and pulled out a phone. “Huh. When did that get there. Hello? Ye - Waver! When did you put this phone on me?! This is a very convenient way to stay in contact - what was that? I’m at a bar with Archer, Saber and Lancer, why?”

Saber and Gilgamesh shared a look.

Iskander pulled the phone away from his face as loud shouts came from it. “What was that? I can’t understand you right now. I - well, they’re making excellent drinking partners so far, why would I _not_ drink with them? Oh no, Waver! This mobile phone of yours seems to be malfunctioning I can’t...you....hear...” Iskander made a static sound into the end of his phone and then hung it up. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to the two of them, “where were we?”

“Should you not be obeying your Masters orders?” Asked Saber. “It’s not as though you are Archer.”

"True," said Gilgamesh.

Iskander waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, he’s probably right. But how often does one get a chance to drink with heroes from across the ages? This is an opportunity to be cherished! Regardless of our status as enemies. So,” Iskander raised his glass. “How about a toast? The war may reach it’s end soon, but at the very least - “

“Rider!”

Iskander flinched. A breathless young man was standing behind him, holding a phone in one of his hands.

“Waver! You’ve...come to drink with us...?” The young man shook his head slowly, looking as though he thoroughly wished everyone in front of him was would burst into flame. “Damn, it was worth a shot. It has been an interesting night, my fellow kings!”

“Enjoy your evening, King of Conquerors,” Gilgamesh said. And then he added much quieter. “Same time tomorrow night?”

Iskander winked at him as he stood up. “Of course,” he said under his breath.

“The hell you will!” Waver grabbed Iskander and pulled the both of them out of the bar. Iskander gave Saber a wink before he was gone into the frosty winter night.

“How boring, my only real competition is gone,” Gilgamesh drained the rest of his wine. “But at least the company remains good.”

“Shut your mouth, Archer,” Saber said, clutching her wine glass. Her head was feeling far too light and every syllable from Gilgamesh’s mouth was beginning to sound more irritating than the least.

“Shutting my mouth would make a drinking contest a lot more difficult.”

“So would having your teeth knocked out your mouth Archer, but I am willing to do so anyway.” Gilgamesh shrugged and continued drinking and somehow that only made her more annoyed.

 

 

 

*

Gilgamesh leaned forward, propped up with a hand under his chin, and smiled.

He hadn't spoken in sometime, he and Saber both had more than caught up with however much Rider had drunk before he left, and at last there were some small signs that the man was actually inebriated. Saber wasn't sure if his tongue had finally failed him, but Gilgamesh had done nothing but stare at her quietly with a dumb smile and sip at his drink for a long while.

Saber tilted back her glass, which contained what she believed to be nothing more than vodka at this point, and studied the brick on the wall behind Gilgamesh's head. It was growing hard to ignore his stare now that the crowd in the bar had thinned out.

"My god," Gilgamesh said quietly. "You have lovely eyes."

"We are not doing this."

"No, but they truly _are_ beautiful. Can a man not simply compliment a woman's natural gifts without a deeper meaning being behind it?"

Saber sucked an ice cube into her mouth and chewed on it loudly. "Very well. I suppose my eyes are perfectly fine."

"There! See how innocent that was?"

Saber swallowed a mouthful of ice. 

Gilgamesh stared at her and smiled.

Beneath them, Diarmuid groaned as he bumped into the table.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the amount of sexual experience you have with men?"

Saber slammed her glass down. “Madam!” She shouted. The waitress behind her jumped. “Another bottle of this would be greatly appreciated!”

“I-I’m afraid you’ve already drunk all of the vodka we have on stock today. And the wine. And the champagne. And the sake. It's Tuesday night, ma'am, we didn't exactly plan for this kind of drinking."

“How pathetic," Gilgamesh said, tossing the glass he'd been drinking from over his shoulder. "What else do you have that a man of my standing can actually drink?”

“Um. We have a few kinds of beer that are pretty high quality? ”

"That sounds terrible," said Gilgamesh. He glanced over at Saber, frowned and then sighed. "Bring us the least disgusting version of that that money can buy."

 

 

 

*

“What wretched whore thought that starch-juice was a good idea,” Gilgamesh mumbled into the table. “What kind of fresh hell is this?"

"Would you look at that," said Saber, "The great King of Heroes, bested by the drink of the common folk."

"N-nonsense. I have never felt better in my entire life. I am - _hic_ \- what the hell. This is poison!" Gilgamesh threw his bottle against the floor and then sagged back deeper into the table. In truth, Saber could feel her own stomach protesting the excess drinking, but she was still willing to ignore it for now. _I need to be strong for Diarmuid sake_ , she thought. _And if Archer begins to cry that would certainly be a pleasant bonus.  
_

“Give up, Archer.” Saber kicked his chair and was surprised at how satisfying the childish gesture was. She had long since given up guessing how much she'd drunk. After the third bathroom trip she'd stopped counting. “Admit I am your better!”

“I didn’t know you had such a talent for swallowing bitter liquids,” Gilgamesh said. His face was tinted slightly green but his retched smile was still there.

“You...vile,” Saber stumbled to her feet, throwing up her fists unsteadily. “Stand Archer! Face me so I can beat the degradation out of your worthless face.”

“Is that so?!” shouted Gilgamesh. He managed to push his chair back but then the energy quickly fled him as he tried to support his own weight. He leaned against his forearms, tucking his head down against the wooden table. “I’ll...all of that...back at you.”

Saber tried to circle him, keeping her fists raised but the legs of the table got in her way and she tripped - landing roughly on Diarmuid's back.

“What!” He shouted opening his eyes. “Oh, lo’ Saber.” There was a thunk as Diarmuid passed out again, his head hitting the floor. Saber climbed off of him.

“Do you concede, King of Heroes?”

Gilgamesh moaned loudly but managed to lift his head. He was sweating and the color of his face could not have been healthy. His smile was painfully forced. “There is no alcohol that can b-best me! I - I am the K-King of Heroes, none can d-defeat - ” Gilgamesh clasped a hand over his mouth, a small whimpering sound still managing to escape. Without another word he ran, shoving a young couple out of his way as he stumbled into the bathroom.

Saber sat down on the floor and laid down besides Diarmiud. “We did it, my friend.”

“Mmmmm?” Asked Diarmuid.

“Yes, we won,” Saber tried to pat him on the back but ended up mostly slapping him. “Your sacrifice has not been in vain.”

“Kirei!” Gilgamesh shouted from the bathroom. “Someone bring me that priest, I’m dying!”

 

 

 

*

The floor was surprisingly comfortably in her inebriated state and she didn’t wake up until she felt an unpleasant presence staring down at her.

“Kotomine Kirei,” Saber said, with as much dignity as she could muster with a bottle of beer tucked comfortably under her shirt for safe keeping.

The priest gave her a stiff nod. “Have you seen - “

“Bathroom down the hall.”

The priest returned a few minutes later, carrying Gilgamesh on his back. The man was snoring loudly and looked as though he might actually be halfway to death. Saber smiled and decided that if she remembered nothing else from that night, she would remember that.

 

 

 

*

“Saber? Saber?” Someone was gently shaking her shoulder. “Come on, my little knight, I can’t carry you back to the car myself.”

Saber’s eyes opened a bit more reluctantly this time. “Irisviel? When did you get here?”

“Just now. Do you remember calling me?”

“I do not,” Saber burped and then covered her mouth. “X’cuse me, that was very rude to do in front of a lady.”

“Can you stand up? We’ve got to get you home.”

“Wait, wait, may we drop off Lancer?” Saber reached over, feeling for where Diarmuid lay on the floor and gave his shirt a yank for emphasis. “He is far too drunk to leave by himself. He’ll distract all the poor barmaids trying to their jobs. With his,” Saber waved her hand around, "with the magic of his face and such.”

Irisviel looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face. “Alright then, we can take Lancer. Come on, let's try getting up.”

“Excell - “ Saber covered her mouth as a wave of nausea hit her. She swallowed. “Exc-excel. _Ugh_ , very good.” With a substantial amount of effort she was able to pull Diarmuid up to his feet but when it seemed clear that he wasn’t able to support his own weight she threw him over her shoulder. With minimal stumbling she was able to get the two of them outside and finally throw Diarmuid into the back seat of the Irisviel's car. "After you, milady," she said under her breath.

“I defeated the King of Heroes,” Saber said, crawling into the backseat beside him. Irisviel shut the door behind them, and knocked twice on the partition to signal the driver.

“Did you? That’s very impressive,” said Irisviel.

“Yes,” Saber said. “Though he claimed - though he said - uh. The point is I am the superior drinker and Archer is a poor loser. Also I fear I may be a mean drunk.”

Diarmuid’s head fell against her shoulder as the man snored quietly. Irisviel giggled. “All the same I’m very proud of you Saber.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Irisviel unfolded Saber’s jacket and placed it gently over her and Diarmuid. “It’s always good to keep our enemies on their toes. Though we might need to keep this little victory a secret from Kiritsugu. Just so he doesn't worry.”

“S’good.” Saber smiled and closed her eyes. It certainly was appealing to remember the terror on Gilgamesh’s face when he’d realized he was about be sick. It would be good to know in their next battle that she’d already defeated him once. Yes, it would certainly be a pleasant memory. “I may be falling asleep.”

“Fall asleep then.”

“Good night Irisviel.”

A laugh. “It’s actually 5:30 in the morning.”

“Is it?" Saber opened one of her eyes and saw faint trickles of sunlight through the tinted window. "So it appears to be. My apologizes. Good morning Irisviel.”

“Good morning Saber.”


End file.
